Fred and Hermione Ficlets
by ceirdwenfc
Summary: These are ficlets/drabbles written about Fred and Hermione for the fwhg ldws comm on LJ. AU obviously.
1. I Love You Too

"When Ron died, I let you into my –"

"Bed."

"Life. For all the –"

"Sex."

"Wrong reasons, but I was wrong to run away when things got serious."

Hermione took Fred's hand. "I love you, Fred."

He looked at her, a smile forming on his lips. "I love you, too."

The voice was behind her. "You're not Fred, are you?"

"No, love. I'm George. If it's any consolation, I love you, too."

The real Fred's hands were on her shoulders, brushing a thumb across her neck.

"I hate when you two do that."

"It wasn't intentional. I was in the loo."


	2. Family Dinner

"I said 'no', Fred!" Hermione put both of her hands on Fred's chest and pushed him away.

Fred was undeterred. He grabbed his wife around her waist and pulled her against him. "Hermione," he whined. "It's our first night in our new house. I really want to _be_ with you. Right now, Hermione."

Hermione could feel how "right now" Fred wanted her, and for a moment she almost relented. His lips were on her neck and his hands roamed along her sides, rubbing her bum and pulling her tight against him.

"Fred," she said in that quiet voice and she knew she was almost giving in. His lips were so warm, and her parents were always late. It couldn't really hurt anyone if they slipped upstairs to their new cozy bedroom. She kissed his cheek and then searched his face with her mouth until she found his lips. "Oh, Fred. I love you."

"Upstairs?" he asked, slipping his hands beneath her shirt, finding the clasp of her bra. He fumbled with it for only a moment before it popped open.

She pulled her head back and looked into his face, wide-eyed. "Magic? Seriously, Fred Weasley. It's a bra clasp. Magic?"

"I'm saving my energy for the bedroom," he laughed, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he groaned when her hands tugged his shirt and she began to touch his bare skin. He couldn't quite get the door knob to turn and he thumped Hermione against the door frame.

"Ow! Fred! You don't want to bruise me, do you?"

"No, of course not. Do you remember, though, what we said when we bought this house?"

The look on his face was pure mischief and she wasn't sure where this new conversation was going, but she thought it best to humor him, glancing over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. "What did we say?"

"We said that we would, you know…we would. In every room in the house. There's no real point in going up to the bedroom when the floor in here will do nicely and we can save the bedroom for afters."

"Fred! We're in the kitchen!"

"The table then."

"Absolutely not!" It didn't take long to break her resolve.

Or the table.

They were still laughing and Hermione glanced at the clock again. She smiled secretly to herself. They had plenty of time until her parents arrived with Arthur and Molly for dinner in their new house. Her parents were never early.

Hermione didn't hear the back door open, but she heard the laughter. _Arthur_! She scrambled for her clothes, but they were in the sink for some reason. _How did he get her knickers on the breadbox?_

"Hermione," came the horrified cry.

"Mum," she answered back just as shrilly. "It's not what you think."

"If it's you," she heard George's voice say, "naked in your kitchen shagging my brother, well, then it's exactly what I'm thinking." She heard the laugh in his voice, and thought that he was lucky she couldn't reach her wand.

Or the steak knives.

"Hermione!"

"_Daddy_." Her new found horror was evident in her voice.

She grabbed the only thing she could, and Fred did his best not to laugh as she wrapped herself in the damask tablecloth that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had given them for Christmas.

Hermione hung her head, but not as much as when George stopped Fred from following her out of the kitchen in shame as he admonished, "Oh no, you two. I think that's enough before family dinner shagging."

Her parents were never early. The Weasleys were never early. Fate was against her.


	3. Surprises

The night air was welcoming and wonderful. July on the coast of Wales couldn't have been more spectacular. The sun had just set and the warm glow as it played off the water only added to this romantic spot. This was the first place, at the end of the war, that Fred and Hermione knew that they were actually in love and not just recovering from their losses.

There was a hush that had fallen over the assembled group as Fred stared into Hermione's eyes with a look of pure adoration on his face. The presiding Minister had to repeat himself twice until finally George thumped Fred on his back and the entire group chorused with the Minister.

"Kiss your wife!"

Fred leaned down, brushing his nose against hers and kissed Hermione on the lips taking great care not to smudge her carefully applied makeup. She had mentioned, more than once, that she did not want her lipstick smeared across her face, and despite his assurances about that special GlamWitch line of mascara that had failed miserably on that wet March day, the Luscious Lips would be fine.

Almost immediately, the area was transformed into a clear dance floor floating above the sand. Fred smiled into Hermione's hair as she laughed at one of his jokes, but immediately became serious again.

"So which magical getaway apart from this one did you choose for our honeymoon?"

"I'm not telling. It's a surprise."

"I hate your surprises."

"I thought you loved my surprises."

She shook her head. "I love _you_. I put up with your surprises."

Hermione stepped up on her toes and kissed her husband.


	4. What'cha Doin?

"What'cha doing?" Fred stood over the dining area's small table, watching Hermione dip her quill in the ink jar and scratching out the answers in the tiny little boxes.

"A crossword puzzle."

Fred rolled his eyes and flopped down on the squishy chair in front of the fireplace.

Hermione pushed _The Daily Prophet_ aside and grabbing a book from the shelf, she joined him in the chair.

"What'cha doing?" he asked again, in that annoying, sing-song voice.

"Reading."

"What'cha reading 'Mione?"

"_Emma_ by Jane Austen."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Hermione," he whinged. "Don't you know how to have fun?"

"I am having fun. I _like_ to read."

"I just don't understand."

"What is there to understand? What is it you like to do to have fun, Fred?"

"Blow things up with George."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Is that all?"

"No. Let me see. Fun, fun, fun." He tapped his finger on his chin and then suddenly getting an idea, he poked her in the side and she flinched. He did it again. She flinched again. "Hermione?" he asked, eyes widening.

"Yes, Fred." She answered, but continued to read and try to ignore him, but had no choice but to squirm in his lap with each new poke.

"Are you ticklish, Hermione?"

"No," she answered, stifling her laugh behind the Austen novel.

"Are you sure? I think you might be."

"I'm not."

"Hermione."

"Yes, Fred."

"_This_ is fun."

"This? You find this fun? I don't understand you, Fred."


End file.
